


The One Where Everyone's Invisible

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Anonymity, Anonymous Sex, Invisibility, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-07
Updated: 2008-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Invisible sex has its pros and cons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Everyone's Invisible

**Author's Note:**

> Contains nonconsensual anonymous groping and touching.

The problem with everyone on Atlantis suddenly turning invisible, John thinks, is all the accidental ass-groping. At least, he thinks it's accidental; certainly he's bumped into plenty of people himself and gotten to know some of the men under his command a little better than he really needed to, even while trying to be careful. But he's also noticed a pretty solid pattern of accidental collisions accidentally colliding with his ass, which makes him suspicious. He sighs and puts his hand to his ear, turning on his radio.

"McKay!" he yells into the mic.

"Oh yes, Colonel, I have the cure for mass invisibility right here, but I was just waiting for you to call and ask for it."

"So, no progress yet," he sighs.

"I will let you know as soon as I have it figured out. In the meantime, may I suggest that you stay away from xenobotany? Perhaps it's just me, but there seem to be a suspicious number of people in the corridors who aren't supposed to be there. I'd walk with my back to the wall."

"I knew it," John snarls. Officially, everyone is supposed to be confined to quarters until this invisibility thing goes away, but . . . it's a difficult order to enforce, and the personnel seem to have realised that. John didn't know there were so many people _on_ Atlantis.

John gets the hell away from xenobotany and heads to the mess hall. He picks up an apple, watching it disappear as soon as he touches it, and takes a bite, and waits.

-

Rodney calls him on the radio at 19:00, 21:00, and 24:30, reporting "no progress," "absolutely incredible progress," and "nevermind, it's still no progress," respectively. After this last check-in, John decides that nothing productive is going to get done with him staying awake – it's hard to fill out paperwork when you make it invisible – so he decides to call it a day. A weird day, but at least the base is secure. He checks in with Woolsey, who is still trying to figure out how to explain this to the SGC, and Teyla, who is taking advantage of their downtime to hang out with her invisible baby, and Ronon, who is apparently taking an invisible nap and yells at John before shutting off the radio.

With his team accounted for, John walks into his quarters, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the floor, where it appears.

-

There's no change the next day, or the day after that. Woolsey gets used to tying a tie by touch, and Rodney claims to be getting better at using what is essentially a pointy stick to manipulate his lab equipment.

The ass-groping has stopped, even in front of xenobotany, but something else has started instead; occasionally, when he bumps into someone, they'll run a slow hand over his shoulder or face, like an invitation. Each time, he shudders and steps away, but he can imagine how it would play out if he didn't: the anonymity, the exploration, the absence of consequences.

He just hopes that some of the Atlantis personnel are still doing their jobs. He can't check on them, so he settles for yelling at them over the radio.

-

On the fourth night of being invisible – which is nowhere near as cool as it should be, especially when everyone else is invisible too – John walks into his quarters as usual, and strips off his shirt as usual, and then, unusually, feels a dry palm run over his shoulder and down his chest.

He jumps and almost loses his balance, trying to get away, but then the hand – whoever it belongs to – curls over his shoulder again, insistently, warm and pressed against his cool bare skin. John breathes, hears himself breathe, is breathing loudly. Whoever it is was waiting in his quarters; whoever it is knows who John is, but doesn't have to reveal themselves.

Another hand gropes clumsily at him until it finds his wrist, then pulls his hand up to touch a flat chest, wide shoulders, short hair.

Whoever it is is a man, too, and John knew that already somehow, from the smell and the height and the feel of the person, but the confirmation is staggering. His dick throbs dully in time with his pulse, starting to get hard.

"Okay," he says out loud, his voice harsh. What the hell, the person already knows who he's fucking; John has nothing to lose.

The hands wrap at once around John's body, and he steps into them, pressing up against the other person. His partner is naked already, he finds, strong hairy thighs and strong arms and hard cock pressed up against him. John nudges against his neck, lets his lips drag up the man's face until he finds his mouth. The kiss starts off wet and hungry: nothing tentative, no pretense, just deep and rough and ready, like this guy has been waiting for John, waiting for hours maybe, and wants to dispense with the pleasantries.

John groans and rubs up against the man, hooking his arms around his back, shoving his cock against his thigh. He's still wearing his pants, but it doesn't take long for the other man to reach down and flick the buttons open expertly, to shove John's pants and underwear down to the floor.

It gets fast, after that: rolling and groping on the bed, thrusting against each other sloppily, their hands roaming freely, their mouths meeting and gasping in fast, deep kisses. John sucks the other man's neck, making marks he can't see, while his partner wraps thick fingers around John's cock and tugs harshly, getting him harder, making him crazy with it.

And somehow, without John even noticing, he's on his front, legs spread, with someone he doesn't know pressing him down into the mattress, hot breath on his neck, hot dick sliding between his thighs. John squirms back into it, not knowing whether to stop this or whether to take it where it seems to be going.

"Do it," he manages eventually, "do it, do me, c'mon – " and the man behind him, on top of him, presses down a little harder, settling his thigh in between John's leg, pushing him open.

"Yeah," John says, as two slick fingers push into his hole, "yeah, that's it. God. _More_." He arches his spine, pushes his ass back against the fingers, three of them now, tries to get them deeper. The fingers rock in and out of him, stretching him open, and John feels stretched open in a way he hasn't ever felt before: free, pinned down and untouchable, lost in the sweet, rough sensation of being breached, being taken.

The man behind him pauses, pulls his fingers out, and John knows what's coming next, tries not to brace himself or clench down as the thick, hard cock eases into him, spreads him apart. John shifts his thighs open a little further, groans as the stranger shoves against him.

John braces himself against the bed with a forearm, buries his own forehead against his wrist. "Jesus," he says, reverently; "Jesus, god, just like that, yeah." He's not normally this talkative during sex, but somehow the knowledge that he can talk and the other guy can't makes him want to do it, want to moan and curse and call out. The man's breath is coming fast and hard, now, puffing against John's neck; John can feel the slick place on the back of his thighs where their bodies are stuck together.

"Harder," John says, getting into it now. "Harder, c'mon, harder, do me," he gasps for breath; his cock is hard and rubbing against the sheets; "Yeah, yeah, oh, c'mon . . . " he scrabbles on his knees to push back, to get a little more friction, just a little more; "Yeah," he groans, the word escaping him on one long outrush of breath, "Yeah, yeah, _Rodney_."

Behind him, the man pauses, just for a moment. Then: "John," Rodney says, and John feels a kiss land between his shoulderblades, and Rodney starts to fuck him a little faster, changing the angle until he's driving John wild with each long, deep stroke. John pushes back and arches his neck and tries to catch his breath, his eyes screwed shut, his free hand reaching back to rest against Rodney's side.

"Rodney," John says again, wanting the sound of it on his lips. "Rodney, fuck me, god – "

Rodney groans, and shoves, in and out, in and out, and then Rodney's arm pushes between John and the sheets, Rodney wraps an arm around and grips John's cock firmly. Rodney's palm is sweaty, and warm, and familiar, dragging along John's dick in long, slow pulls. It's too much, all of a sudden, Rodney's cock inside him, Rodney's hand on him, Rodney Rodney Rodney all over him, and John comes, gasping, trembling, his forehead pressed against the pillow.

"Jesus," Rodney grits out, and stills behind him, pulling John's hips back against his in a bruising grip, his dick twitching inside of John.

A few deep breaths, and then Rodney pulls out, taking the condom with him. It turns visible as soon as Rodney gets up and tosses it into the little wastepaper basket next to the desk.

Rodney doesn't get back into the bed.

"It's a perfect system, really," he says, his voice coming from somewhere between the bed and the couch. "You don't have to look anyone in the eye afterwards."

John wishes he could just hold up the sheets, or pat the bed, or waggle his eyebrows, but all his usual tricks are on sabbatical. So instead, tired and fucked out, he just says what he means: "Get in the goddamned bed, Rodney."

Rodney does, slowly, curling up behind him and running his broad palm up and down over John's side, down to his hip and up to his bicep, as if memorizing John's body by touch in the absence of sight.

"You better fix this thing tomorrow," John says through a yawn, resting his shoulder against Rodney's chest. "I didn't get that full-length mirror for nothing."

John can't see it, but he feels Rodney smile against his ear.

"Okay," Rodney says.


End file.
